Where Was I Going? I Puzzled And

History Is A Living Horse Laughing At A Wooden Horse. History Is A Wind Blowing Where It Listeth. History Is No Sure Thing To Bet On. History Is A Box Of Tricks With A Lost Key. History Is A Labyrinth Of Doors With Sliding Panels, A Book Of Ciphers With The Code In A Cave Of The Saragossa Sea. History Says, If It Pleases, Excuse Me, I Beg Your Pardon, It Will Never Happen Again If I Can Help It.

To Never See A Fool You Lock Yourself In Your Room And Smash The Looking-glass.

Time Says Hush: By The Gong Of Time You Live. Listen And You Hear Time Saying You Were Silent Long Before You Came To Life And You Will Again Be Silent Long After You Leave It, Why Not Be A Little Silent Now? Hush Yourself, Noisy Little Man. Time Hushes All: The Gong Of Time Rang For You To Come Out Of The Hush And You Were Born. The Gong Of Time Will Ring For You To Go Back To The Same Hush You Came From. Winners And Losers, The Weak And The Strong, Those Who Say Little And Try To Say It Well, And Those Who Babble And Prattle Their Lives Away, Time Hushes All.

I Never Made A Mistake In Grammar But One In My Life And As Soon As I Done It I Seen It.

Poetry Is A Tracing Of The Trajectories Of A Finite Sound To The Infinite Points Of Its Echoes.